I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved
by midnight in a perfect world
Summary: It's not the end of the world. Not even close. It's just a phone call; plain and simple. It's not Lucas – the expected caller; even though she starts to ramble immediately about Haley and the perfect wedding dress.  It's definitely not Lucas.


She doesn't just jog these days.

She runs; runs like there's something gawking something at her left foot. Runs until she's out of breath and her legs give out beneath her.

At Peyton's house a pale face in the mirror and a pointy mattress are greeting her before sleep comes to sweep her away.

The test in her hands is screaming. Screaming "your life is over and "how on earth could you do that to Lucas" and "please, please, not now". It's practically laughing at her; even though it's so tiny and out of plastic in her hands.

She still hears it when she's pressing the doors open to the clinic.

It's not the end of the world. Not even close. It's just a phone call; plain and simple. It's not Lucas – the expected caller; even though she starts to ramble immediately about Haley and the perfect wedding dress.

It's definitely not Lucas.

Her life doesn't stop out of the sudden.

She still has to attend to the reception– the party she planned entirely by herself . Of course there's the wedding, too –the wedding in which she is going to be the maid of honour and has to give the best speech anybody's ever made.

And at the end of the day, when it's not about Haley and Nathan anymore; maybe then. Then everything will stop like it's supposed to. Maybe.

At the end of the day she crosses a lot of items off her lists. Organize a wedding – Check. Let it Lucas go – Check. Make a toast – check. Alienate Peyton – Check.

Unfortunately she's not as good at it as she would have liked to be. There are little hints, little comments she drops without thinking. It's always been her thing to talk before thinking.

She's just never been ashamed of it before.

She absolves her first appointment in her red dress – it's immediately after the wedding and she somehow she forgot to change in her car. It doesn't matter, not really and at the hospital they don't seem to care, either.

There's this long needed talk with her hematologist and her future doctor, because they have a plan; a big plan to safe the world. All she has to do is to play her part by fighting needles, tests and poison. It's that easy.

The planning takes over an hour, and when she steps out of the door she stumbles over a nurse because her eyes are falling shut all the damn time.

When she checks her cell, there's a worst case scenario massage left.

Haley, Nathan, Uncle Cooper and Rachel crashed into each other – Nathan and Cooper are in the OP right now – and Haley, Haley who asked her to buy a pregnancy test earlier, is somewhere in this hospital, too.

She takes the elevator down into the emergency room and – oh, there they are. Maybe she should go check on Rachel first.

Rachel asking her to move in is the best thing that's happened to her in while. This way she doesn't have to ask Karen or Haley or Dan (okay, scratch that, because, seriously, ew!) for shelter and Rachel won't ask questions about school or where she's been all day long.

She's kind of glad beyond that. After that thing with the mirror… Somehow she likes knowing that life for Rachel hasn't been roses and puppies lately, either.

She practises her speech for Lucas in front of the mirror until there are no tears in her eyes.

At first, everything is okay. She's not surprised about the sick, nauseous part and not about the vomiting or the tiredness – it's been in the brochure and the doctors told her about it over and over again.

The silence is kind of boring, and she hates sitting still during they build her very own radiotherapy mask, but the nurses are nice and the kids who have to sit still on the same uncomfortable chairs with uncomfortable needles are incredibly strong and funny and can talk through everything. She starts reading to them: ? (girly) and Huckleberry Finn. They spend hours together and she sometimes she forgets that she's supposed to be at school (calculus, right this second) or somewhere else.

She gets up at four in the morning and jogs for two miles before her breath and her limbs catch up with her. She vomits behind a bush into the green grass and needs half an hour until she's ready to walk back.

In the last few of days she has gained several pounds thanks to the steroids and she can practically feel herself growing more and more unattractive each day. Soon she'll not only be ugly and stupid, but also fat and dying.

The four most unappealing things about a girl.

It's her birthday. Her 18th. It's supposed to be the most spectacular day in her life. It's supposed to include stolen gifts in a supermarket (there's no way she's getting one now) and lots of alcohol.

In the hospital there's cake nobody's able to eat and candles and songs (it's kind of perfect). Back home Rachel takes her to check out boy at a club. Of course she knows Rachel does the best she can and she wants to appreciate it, she wants to, really. Because this is an attempt to fix things, she _knows_ that - but she's just so damn tired and worn out that she can't stay there for long. She walks home around midnight, thinking about Peyton and that supermarket (again) and the thrill of stolen gifts. Halfway through on her way there she thinks that maybe – maybe Peyton's there and remembering, too. So she decides to stop by, just in case.

When she sees them, all smiley and snugly she starts breathing through her noise. Like a horse. Or a dolphin, just without the hole. Because it's okay. It's alright.

It's okay that they love each other more than they love her. Everything is going to be so much easier now that everything is in the right place. They will be alright.

She has always loved them more then she has ever loved herself.

He wants to know if she's pregnant. He accuses her of caring Chris Keller's it's okay. She knows she deserves this. She slept with the troll and he saw it. She brought it on herself.

But she can't be pregnant anymore. Can't take all the insults and unflattering things Lucas has to say about her. She just has to break that to Haley.

It's Mouth who makes her crumple. She's been doing fine in the last week on her own – everything's okay. But then he tells her all this nice stuff about her going being a wonderful mother and person in general and he thinks she's _worthy_ and she can't lie then. She just can't.

She hasn't cracked one bit until now, and now she's lying on the table, all opened look on his face is so much worse than she could have expected and all she wants is to take it back. He's such a loyal, caring, kind – amazing friend and he doesn't deserve to hear this. He deserves to go happy and baggage less through the rest of his life.

He doesn't deserve this.

No matter how much she protests, she's not alone on the next appointment. The nurses and the kids welcome him enthusiastically and ask him a million of question (where he has been, if he is her boyfriend, if she has a boyfriend, if she talks about them and the list keeps on going). And Mouth - Mouth talks about cheerleading, gossips and sings along with her and her old Spice Girl CD.

She kisses his cheek twice when he hands her a red popsicle.

Lucas is not the guy for her. He says it himself. At an after-game party in Rachel's house. In front of her friends and god and the whole wide that's okay. It's okay because he broke her heart a couple of times already. She expected it to happen again.

Most days it's a blur. A blur of shiny people, basketball, hospitals, teachers and Mouth. Mouth who is so upset, torn up. Telling him that everything was just a cruel joke would be pointless, really.

Everything is a blur of fear, strength and the colour white which she detests by now. It's a blur, a mess . It's just the beginning.

School is less and less important these days. Even cheerleading – one of the steadiest outlet of sadness and anger and hurt. But she can't think of any choreography and she can't breathe and she can't bring herself to do any of the movements she's supposed to show the others. At the end all she does is standing still and commanding and that's even worse than not going at all. Astonishingly, Rachel doesn't use this weak moment to take over her squad. She's just bitching and moaning, but she doesn't make one single move.

This day couldn't have been shittier. At first she has this long overdue talk with the headmaster about her current situation (her therapist made her promise) and after condolences he promises her to help her graduate, no questions asked.

Later at practise Bevin asks her about the dark blue bruises shaping her shoulder-blades. Her breath catches in her throat - this isn't supposed to happen, not now – not in front of everybody. Bevin can't have figured it out. She can't have, right? The ones on her back, her ankles and knees are all covered up. Aren't they? Gladly even though her body seems to have stopped moving, her brain is able to come up with a stupid story about some kinky guy that causes her fellow cheerleaders to giggle along with her. Peyton and Lucas watch her with disgust – like she's the scum of the earth – filthy and dirty. As if she's the one who cheated and broke hearts.

That's when she starts trying. It's all she can think about out of the sudden and she tries, tries really hard. She tries to reconsider everything. Tries to think about letting them know, about seeing the truth slip underneath their skin and their eyes. She tries to mean it when she wishes that they should be feeling half of the pain she's feeling. She's trying, focusing on all the issues and what she wants to do and feel.

And when she realizes that she can't, just… can't even if she wants to, so bad – it's the same moment she realizes that she's screwed. So utterly screwed.

At practise she bitches at Peyton – nothing major, but it's enough to make her mad enough to call her fat chick. Not that it matters – she knows the way she looks. It's nothing new.

Some of the boys laugh, some are watching her to see how she's going to lash out. Lucas just looks kind of sad at her – like she's the poor girl who ate herself into oblivion because of Lucas Scott. But then he is laughing – dry and spiteful and _mean_.She wants to do something – anything to make him hurt; make him bleed – but Mouth's already there, clocking his friend goes down in one single motion and Mouth is shaking his hand violently. It is kind of awesome.

Back home, she wants to hide underneath her red covers from the whole world – this is going to be her last school day for a while, but she is stopped by Rachel on her way upstairs by a letter underneath her nose. It takes her way too long to realize that it's a one hospital bill she apparently forgot to hide. A tiny mistake. A stupid, careless mistake. "Care to explain?" Her voice is cold, like cracking ice. She knows this tone oh so well. Not because she knows Rachel and because they are close. But because she has used this voice so often herself.

She knows what they did to hurt each other was really bad. She knows she and Rachel aren't the biggest friends. But over the last few weeks she got so sure that they could be. She's sure of Rachel's big heart and the friendship they could have.

Now this possibility of a new, better start is ruined.

Rachel takes her to a party the next night. She puts her in a fabulous dress and curls her hair and takes her hand to pull her into an unfamiliar house. They play "I Never" and "Truth or Dare" and brush of every single guy who tries to hit on them. They end up laughing, hugging, crying and squealing on a red sofa, downing Grey Goose and Beck's. It's the best night she has had in a while. It's actually the first night in a while that she feels loved and good about herself. When she lets that final piece of information accidentally slip, Rachel looks her straight in the eye and tells her that she feels it, too.

She tells Haley and Nathan both at the same time at their apartment. They're sitting on a sofa, holding each others hands and she's so grateful that they have each other, no matter what. She's so grateful that she doesn't have to worry about the little baby inside her friend's stomach because she knows with these two everything's going to be fine.

Still, that doesn't mean that she doesn't hate telling them. Because she does. Really. She hates seeing the miserable, sad look in their eyes. She hates, hates herself so much for telling them about the realistic chances; hates being honest and taking away hope. She hates herself for not having done this earlier, because seriously - Haley is the world's best roommate and Nathan is, despite everything and the lack of communication between them, her oldest child hood friend. The sobs that Haley makes as soon as she starts to realize that this – even though this is it and sincere and maybe terminal, is one of worst things that have happened to her in the last time. "But you're supposed to be the godmother. We just decided… We wanted to tell you later, after… You're supposed to be…"Nathan's eyes are kind of watery; a sight that tears right through her. Nathan is strong. Strong and brave. And now he is fighting tears because of her. "That baby is going to be okay, with or without me around – because seriously, you will both kick so much ass at this parent thing. But you should really look for another godmother, because…" Her lip is wavering a little bit – just a little, tiny bit – and she's so, _so_ scared that she's going to loose it right now right here and she can't, she just can't.

Before she can speak or think, Nathan steps up and takes her into hug he's never given her before – all muscles and force. She feels like a fragile porcelain doll in his big arms.

After three days that she _knows_, Rachel finds her shaking violently underneath the sink. She's holding tufts of long, silk brown in her hand. "I can't… I can't…" Her shoulder blades are flying up and down like little butterflies and Rachel would give everything to make this better. She _needs_ this to be better. But all she can do is crawl next to her on the bathroom floor, hold her in her arms; mouthing soothing syllables into her tiny ears. It takes her two hours to calm her breathing and her heart rate down to normal again. And when she gets up, she puts her hand onto Rachel's. "Thank you." She doesn't say more, can't muster up the energy for more meaningful words, but she hopes that Rachel gets it anyway.

They shave her head completely and put all the hair in a letter and send it to Brooke's mother in California.

The next day she puts on the wig she bought the day she got her first chemo and the even paler make-up they bought.

When she looks in the mirror, it's pretty clear that she's not who she used to be. She's not beautiful and shiny anymore, but she smiles. Hair or no hair, she's still Brooke Davis.

Bevin calls her during another chemo session to tell her that Peyton and Lucas are together now. Kissing in the hallway and all that jazz. She drops the phone accidently when she tries to recover from the sudden weakness of her wobbly knees.

It's okay. It's okay. Everything is alright. It's what she wished for. It's okay. She just didn't expect it to hurt. Not after everything.

On the telephone, her mother says that she has proof now. Proof of how much of a failure she is. It's in her bones and her migrated cells. It's in her blood. She says she'll send more money. She says maybe they'll pass through in the next months. Maybe. If the timing is right.

The day before they implant a central line, she quits cheerleading officially. She hasn't been there for more a really long time and there's no way she would be capable of getting the job done right. Still, it feels like ending an area. An area of a slutty, insecure, dumb Brooke.

When she hands over all the things that make her cheer captain of the Varsity Squad of Tree Hill High to Rachel, she thinks that maybe she can leave these parts of herself behind, too.

Haley and Rachel take her to the mall to go shopping for a new clothing style that involves covering up as much of her body as possible. The clothes they are looking at are all so unlike her, so different from her usual style that she thinks about buying flirty, sexy tops and shorts skirts just to rebel a little bit for a moment. But she also thinks about skinny shoulder blades and ribs and scary long legs and pointy hipbones; and there's no way she's walking around for the whole world to see that something isn't right with her. So hoodies and big T-Shirts with funny massages and sneakers it is.

At home she cracks a joke about how everybody's going to think now that she's the pregnant one instead of Haley – and it's not even that funny, because her weight has dropped down rapidly after she stopped taking the steroids.

Nathan storms out of the room immediately. Later she persuades Haley to drive her to the Rivercourt, where she finds him – not exactly a surprise - shooting hoops.

It's kind of funny that she understands Nathan and his issues and problems so well when she can't even begin figure out her own. So she tells him that everything's going to be fine. That Haley's not going anywhere – couldn't leave him, not ever. She tells him that he's going to be an amazing dad. That there's no kind of resemblance between him and his father whatsoever. She tells him that he deserves to have all this. That he has the right to be happy, has the right to live, get children. To never let go of his happiness.

She goes on for a few minutes, rambling and gesturing and trying to make him understand, when he's lifting her up to take her in his arms.

It's the second bear hug of her life.

She's always been a crier when things went bad. It's her way of letting something of her feelings slip, letting the outside participate with whatever's going on with her. It's proof of a vulnerability nobody else is supposed to see.

Lately her eyes have been dry. They are itchy and whenever she scratches them, she feels the crumbs behind her eyelids. Sometimes an artery blows up in her eyes and she'll look like even more like a monster, but that's it.

So there is no water on her face anymore.

So what.

These days she's never alone in the clinic. Somebody's always there to entertain her, no matter how much she tries to push them away. She doesn't want anybody to treat her like a sick puppy. She's strong and independent and she doesn't _need_ anyone. She doesn't need a knight and shining amour. She doesn't expect a fairy tale of a happily ever after.

She's going to be fine, one way or the other and they all have a very busy and hard life to get back to, no matter how what's going on with her.

It's really strange that Rachel becomes her biggest supporter. When they first met she wouldn't have been able to imagine a friendly chat, let alone something resembling a friendship.

Now she drives her to the hospital, holds her head when she throws up and entertains her and covers for her. Day by day, she's there; never complaining, never unsure. She has no idea where Rachel gets the energy for it.

She doesn't get why she puts such an effort into it.

It takes another couple of time until she starts to get tired of fighting . She's tired o forcing these big, tiny, colourful pills down her throat. She's tired of her coated tongue and taking everything sip by sip, saliva spray and sucking on ice-cubs and popsicles and not being able to taste anything at all. She's tired during the school days she attends. She's tired at radiation and the hours of silence. She's tired at all the movie afternoons they throw for her, even though she tries so hard to stay awake. She's tired of throwing up every morning, at least five times during the day and eleven times at night. Of course there are meds for that, too but they include constipation, insomnia and … and in the end it doesn't really help at all.

She's tired of waking up in a pool of nigh sweat and regret.

It gets harder and harder not let them says it's getting harder and harder to lie, too.

Her friends don't match either. They're all sitting in a doctor's office when they get the news. At first there's only silence but then Rachel starts shouting. She says that this is _not_ true. She has to _do_ something. _Anything_. She says that there's got to be a way to make this alright. Rachel screams and shouts and bangs her fist on the desk and starts pacing the room up and down. She gets up to take her friends hands in hers after a while. It's then that she starts breaking down, sobbing in her arms. _"This is fucking bullshit."_

Nothing breaks that day.

Haley takes her to an appointment with her doctor because Nathan's at practise. When they come to the ultrasound her face is wet from tears of joy. There's a little boy inside her friend.

It's a miracle.

She isn't feeling well, but she still decides to go to school. She hasn't been there in forever and she misses the gossip of Tree Hill High, even though she's pretty sure she's on top of the rumours – escaping the cheerleader squad and never showing up for schools aren't exactly things that pass by without notice.

It happens at her locker. One time she is talking to Haley and Bevin about Zoey Patterson's infidelity and the other she there's this silver taste beneath her teeth and on her tongue and a red fluid finds it way out of her stomach into her gullet and out of her body and onto the floor. Her wig falls down as soon as she lets her head fall forward. Everything inside her hurts; worse than anything she's ever felt and she feels like somebody's twisting a knife inside of her.

Haley cries for an ambulance and help and suddenly Lucas is right beside her. He picks her up and gets a spite full of blood in his face. But he carries her out of there, nonetheless, Haley following suit.

It's the first time he saves her and he damns himself for hoping to do just that.

When she wakes up, all of her friends are sitting next to her bed. Including Peyton and Lucas. Who aren't supposed to be _here_. Because this is not how they're supposed to find out. Not this way – preferably never. But especially not when she's vomiting blood on the floor, not when her secure wig falls down her face.

She tries to remember how and why she got here, but the memories are fuzzy and cloudy and her head, mouth and bones hurt and itch. "Well, good morning, sleeping beauty." Rachel sounds so relieved to see her fluttering eyelashes that she has to smile. "You dropped down on the floor in high school, remember? You're at the hospital now." Of course she knows. Why shouldn't she? Her voice is rusty and broken and she needs a few tries to speak. "Yeah. I remember. But why am I here?" Haley's face flashes in pain next to Rachel's and she already knows that she won't like what's coming next. The unavoidable, the inevitable.

She doesn't want to see the end of her road all by herself. Doesn't want to see Lucas, leaning against the door with puffy red eyes and a blue shirt covered in blood. She doesn't want to look at her best friend with slumped shoulders and guilt written all over her. She doesn't want to face that they _know_ now.

How terrible it was to keep something this big from them.

But even though she's so tired, of everything and even though she can't – won't fight anymore – she can't run away from this. It's going to catch her before she has one foot out of the door, because she still fucking cares so much.

And anyway – even if she'd try, Rachel would be telling her everything, no matter what. Because Rachel doesn't shy away from a confrontation, no matter how ugly it is. Her motto shouldn't be some drunken slutty-slut motto, but "Life sucks. Deal with it." It's a great motto.

Rachel isn't one for sentiments and smooth talking. And she admires her for that. She loves her for being strong and independent and herself. For being Rachel. She's so thankful for having her. "The therapy isn't working. The metastases spread to your lungs – that's why you were hacking your lungs out before, literally. There was no way to see it on the MRI before because – well, the cancer spread only in a couple of days. They're going to give you even more aggressive medicine now. And you'll get a stem cell transplant, but it's going to be a little bit difficult, because unfortunately you have AB-. And for now you'll have to stay in the hospital and they have no idea how long it could take. You're already in your third Intensification cycle of your have to stay at least for two weeks, but they say it might take longer. A while longer"

She nods, because really, there's nothing she can say that wouldn't make her or her friends cry and that would be even worse. She takes Rachel's hand in hers and squeezes as much as possible – even though she's pretty sure that the other girl only feels it a little bit.

They smile.

Lucas and Peyton don't want to leave the room, no matter how hard the others try to push them out of there. "I think we deserve to talk to her …" "You don't deserve shit." Nathan spits. He's standing next to Rachel in front of her bed, trying to shield her from his brother and his ex. It's times like these that their little incestuous club worries her. "You cheated on her. You betrayed her. Both of you. Two times. None of you has the right to upset her anymore." "We made a mistake, okay? We didn't want this to happen! Can't you see it's different now?" And that's – that's it. Like it would be right if she would be alive and kicking like before. Like it would be all good then. And she hates that in fact – she's right. Everything would be fine. For everybody. "Why? Because I'm dying?" Her raspy voice cuts through the air like a knife and she immediately regrets opening her mouth. Their eyes set on her, full of shock and disbelief.

Mouth is the first one to react. "Don't you say that." He's standing next to her now, hovering about her tiny figure. "Don't say that." "I'm sorry. Really. I … I shouldn't have said that." "Yeah, you're right, you shouldn't." he whispers; eyes big and round. "But it's okay though. I'll talk have to them." "You don't have to, if you don't want to, Brooke." Rachel interjects. "Thank you. But it's okay. Go home, eat and stuff. I think someone really needs a beauty sleep. I'm gonna be fine."

Another five minutes of persuading are needed until they are ready to leave the room. They all say their good-byes, pat her ankle and face, put light kisses on her temple and murmur calming words in her ears.

This is how she wants her real good-bye to be.

The quietness surrounding her is so awkward that she just has to say something. She's always the one to shake things up. She's always fun and games. That's why she doesn't get why she has to gather up everything inside her to say a stupid sentence. "Can somebody say awkward, please?" They stare at her like she's crazy. Peyton shakes her head.

"And you're still trying to be cute." "If I don't, who will? We all know your emo-ass isn't going to do it." Her voice sounds so content and playful and she hopes to god that they don't get what she just gave away. They're already feeling bad enough. They don't need to hear more than that.

But they've never been good at reading her, so maybe she shouldn't worry too much.

"I don't get it. How you couldn't tell me. I'm your best friend. I've known you your _whole_ life and we survived _so_ much." Peyton sounds so small and broken. Not like the girl she loves so much. She would offer everything she has to have the old Peyton back.

"Well yeah. As you already pointed out, we didn't survive one boy. My boy. Well, now your boy. Anyway, how did you expect me to react? You told me that your feelings for my boyfriend were stronger than your feelings for me. You made it clear that you'd rather have a life with him than with me." She pauses. She's going to hate herself even more for what she's about to say. And she already hates it so much that she was so _right_. "You got what you wanted, right?" "So you're saying if I wouldn't have said anything we would still be…" "Hold on. Just a second. What are you two talking about?" Brooke turns her head from watching the ceiling to look curiously at her former best friend. "You didn't tell him?" Peyton shakes her head, eyes glued to the floor. "Oh, oh, okay. The day before Naley's wedding your girlfriend declared her undying love for you." It's Lucas turn to look at Peyton, but this time it's different.

If she wouldn't know better, she would have thought that it's full of disgust and repentance. But she does know better. It's interest. Now.

"But you wanted to help us to get back together. You said you had no clue why she broke up with me. You said…" "Oh stop it. It's not like you two wouldn't have gotten together in the end. Which you did, so congratulation." It costs her so much strength to keep the bitterness out of her voice. It costs her so much to keep looking at their direction. "Brooke, I wouldn't have…" "But you did." "Brooke I'm so sorry for what I did; like you wouldn't believe. So sorry. But we can fix this, right? You're going to get better. We're going to get better. We're going to fix this." "I already forgave both of you once. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice." She wishes she wouldn't have forgiven them in the first place. She wishes it could be that easy. She wishes she wouldn't know that she'd forgive them anything. "So you're saying we're finished. And you're never giving us a chance again." "Didn't you listen to me?" "You know why you're here. You know that there's this chance that you might never have a possibility to forgive me. You know what happened to both of my moms and you still…" "Everything's about you. I already got that on the first Peyton Sawyer memo. And frankly, I don't care." "You're such a bitch Brooke! Such a selfish little bitch! You deserve this. You really, really, do."

Her finger is poking in her face now, full of anger and it hurts, hurts so much to see her like that. This situation is so ironic and twisted and she never once thought that something inside her could die before her body does.

Lucas yanks Peyton back, tells her to shut the hell up. But that's useless now. The room is silent; full of Peyton's and Lucas tears. Their heavy breathing kills her. It kills her to be the reason. It kills her not to be good enough to be enough to be loved unconditionally by them. _The worst thing is that she still wants them, both of them. After_ everything. And she's so ashamed of herself that she can barely breathe.

She has to swallow a couple of times to take down the lump in her throat. "I want you out of this room. And I don't want you to ever come back again."

She turns around then; turns her bony spine and her bald head to them.

The next day Karen comes to visit her during another session. She brings tons of girly magazines and the muffins she always stuffed in her face. After hugging her, she asks her what she exactly has, because there are many details flowing around in Tree Hill, but none of them mention the disease by the right name she's apparently dying from.

So she starts rambling about her sore mouth and problems with eating and breathing and the cute doctor she has and Rachel and acute lymphoblastic leukaemia and her saliva spray and test, endless tests and that her parents sent another bouquet of flowers she's allergic to.

When Karen pulls her in her arms to tell her that everything will be alright, she has to wipe the tears in her eyes away.

There's a boy in the room next to her who has a crush on her. He's not exactly a boy with his twenty-one years and college degree, but he has this innocence about him that she admires. The nurses and Rachel are teasing her about it, but that's nothing new.

Boys always had crushes on her. She just didn't expect somebody to like her now. But it doesn't matter, anyway. This crush will fade away. Like all the others did.

The whole school gets tested, now that they know that something's wrong with her. At first the show up in groups of five or six, but then they nearly storm the hospital. She still doesn't get why they would go willingly through that kind of torture.

Rachel starts dating Mouth. At first it's just talking over coffee until they go out, having a fancy dinner without even realizing what they are doing. When they're in her room again, it takes Brooke two minutes to figure out that they kissed and when she does she squeals in delight. These two are _so_ right for each other.

They're still not coming. At first she expected them to burst in any minute to sweep her from her feet. But they didn't. They won't.

And it's okay. It's what she wished for.

Peyton's so wrapped up in her boyfriend; so needy and in love in a way she'll never be.

They deserve to have that. Both of them.

One day the boy knocking on her door, demanding her undivided attention with a bouquet of lilies in his hand. He says he would like to take her out on a date; somewhere she's never been. He says he would like to dance with her, because she seems like someone who knows what she does. He says he would like to get to know her better; what her favourite desert is and what kind of music she likes

He's saying all the things a guy is supposed to say to get a girl to go out with him, but he stops talking as soon as she violently grabs the bowl next to her bed to puke in it. It takes her nearly three minutes to stop. The boy's hands are on her back and neck and when she stops, he hands her a bottle of water and cleans the bowl. She mumbles that she's sorry. She is so ashamed. His fingers touched her spine, her long fingers, her hairless scalp; parts of her body she's despites. She's not beautiful anymore. She's not somebody who may have been loved.

"So. How are you holding up?" "You really wanna know?" Her tone is light; a little playful. She has no idea where that comes from. "Yeah." "Like for real?" He laughs. "Yeah."

She tells him then. About thinking she might be pregnant and talking to a doctor while her boyfriend was away. About the results of her blood example. About MRI, bone marrow examinations and scary long needles. About induction chemotherapy, the little kids in their hospital swing, weight gain and loss, dark toe nails, dizziness, bruises, swollen tonsils, the night nurses. About getting the catheter. And he listens. He nods and asks questions and teases the nurse when she enters.

She has no idea why she wants him to know all that. Why she wants another person to know all about her dirty secret. But maybe it's because of the growing hair on his scalp and the fact that he's in remission.

Maybe it's because he doesn't look at her like she's fragile and weak and _dying_.

Rachel and Haley are sitting around her, digging through Cooke Dough ice-cream and bags of chips. They are chatting about Josh Sanderson and his Adonis body during the poison runs through her veins.

She is only a little bit surprised when the boy comes through the door and only a little bit shy. She's wearing a red tank-top so that everybody can see her shoulder blades, that _thing_ that comes out of her skin and all the liquids rushing into her.

She expects him to run away as fast as he can. Nobody likes a small, ugly, ill girl. Nobody wants that. Even boys who have seen it all before.

He surprises her when he doesn't even flinch, greets them all and takes the free chair. The girls eye him a little bit weary, but they start asking him questions immediately. It seems so normal when they talk about school and other stuff. Like he's been there all the time before.

Skills comes to visit her. She definitely didn't expect him to show up, especially solo but she is glad about his appearance. He lightens up her entire mood by cracking jokes and flirting with her and the nurses. They talk about Lucas ridiculous long hair and Bevin and working in factories. When he leaves, he squeezes her hand and she tells him to come again soon.

The boy's real name is Jacob. He told her with lilies his arms and her hands in his hands and his fingers on her temple, but she still calls him the boy.

Rachel says it's ridiculous to call a hot guy "boy" and she silently agrees.

The first time she calls him Jacob in her head, he's loosing at poker with Nathan and Rachel. The first time she calls him Jacob out loud she's laughing because he's referring to her as "the hot chick I met here" on the phone with his buddies.

Haley's big now. It's a long time until she's actually due but Brooke starts coming up with names every time she sees her belly. When she suggests Nathan jr. because there's no chance that this kid might be less awesome than his daddy, Nathan grabs her shoulder blades and pulls her towards his big chest, shaking with laughter. "You're a big, fat liar, Davis." And that's the moment she finally knows. "James. Jamie. James Lucas Scott. That's him. That's his name." Nathan stops shaking underneath her fingers. For a few second he's frozen in place.

He pulls her even closer then. It's her third bear hug.

She misses them. She misses Peyton's curl, her rambles about music and her bitchiness. She misses the sound of his voice, the freckles on his shoulders, his brooding. She longs for them, both of them. Their company; their presence. Hanging out with them. Talking to them. Laughing with them. Shopping with them. Everything.

Some days she's _this_ close to giving in and picking up the phone to tell them the truth.

She never does.

The boy comes to visit her nearly every day now, even though he doesn't need to be anywhere near a hospital for a couple of days a week. He's there, talking and soothing and looking out for her meds even though she's miserable and cranky and ill. He brings her thoughtful, inexpensive gifts everyday even though she always tells him that he's crazy. He asks about boyfriends and he still comes to meet her after she tells him the story about the girl and the boy she loves more than anything in the world. He likes all of her friends, treats them to coffee and lays gentle hands on heavy shoulders.

She doesn't feel anything. She doesn't. She's dying and there's nothing a new guy could change. It's a new melody to an old song.

Haley tells her that they're hurting.

She says that both of them barely leave their rooms. She says that Lucas still has these red, puffy eyes every time she sees him. She says that Peyton takes self-defence lessons now. That they crave _nothing_ more than her forgiveness. She says that they both regret and love her so, so much.

And she's not buying it. She's _not_.

They find a donor.

After waiting for long – so long, there's a donor who fits. The day they find out, the day the others celebrate at her bed is the day before she is prepped for surgery.

It's Rachel who holds her hand until she slips away into another dimension so that her body can be mutilated in order to fix her.

It's Rachel who sits next to her when she wakes up; a bright smile on her face.

She's getting better. After all the months of disease, poison and death she is finally, finally getting better. Her vitals are better; have been getting better for a couple of days now. The chemo and the radiation are working.

After a few months, she could be fine.

She nearly gets crushed by all her friends hugs and is flushed red when Jacob puts a small kiss on her lips. Maybe there's a future for them, after all.

Everything seems so much better now. Less pressure; less weight. She's already this close to calling Peyton and Lucas. But she can't. Because she's just not sure how to buy it. How to believe again.

So she doesn't. Doesn't believe, doesn't buy, doesn't hope.

Life taught her a couple of lessons already.

Three weeks later all the girls swoop in the room, all dressed up, to pull her out of her hospital bed to put on make-up, a wig and a red dress and gown that covers up her shoulder-blades, the catheter and everything else. They say that they talked with the nurses, arranged her pain medication and promised to be back at least at midnight. She's so puzzled when they tell her what the occasion is:

It's the day of prom and she forgot.

Her biggest wishes always included Peyton, booze, a boyfriend and being prom queen. And she forgot all about it.

She even missed the date. Just like that.

There's a limo in front of the building and in the vehicle are Skills, Jacob, Mouth and Nathan; all of them wearing tuxes.

They start snapping pictures of each other and they won't let her turn away. Rachel tells her she's very sexy and beautiful. The others agree and hold the camera right into her face. And she still doesn't want memories of a rotting body.

It takes five minutes until she is laughing hysterical about a silly face Nathan made unintentionally and clutches onto Jacob's knee not to triple over.

The official photos are kind of awkward because they shoot about forty pictures with her and everybody until she can convince them to take couple photos. She and Jacob do some, too. She tries to miss the way she's smiling instantly when his hands curl around her waist.

The regular high school folk is floating around her as soon as she is spotted. Nearly every single one has already been at the hospital with flowers and cake to hear the latest news of her war with the unexplainable. They're gripping her arm tight and shout nonsense over the loud music into her ears.

It's Bevin who rescues her from them; pulls her to large tables where the others are already sitting. There's an empty seat between Jacob and Rachel and they're both grinning at her deviously.

Maybe this isn't the night she has always imagined. There's no Peyton. No Lucas. No title. No booze for her. But there are Rachel and Jacob, who are amazing and there are her other friends; her family.

So maybe it's no dream come true, but it's all she could ask for. Because maybe; maybe her biggest fear isn't coming true. Sure, she is still dying, still sick; but maybe she doesn't have to die alone. Maybe.

Maybe she won't die at all. Maybe.

She's coming from the bathroom, hand in hand with Bevin and Rachel when she sees them. They're three feet away, kissing. Peyton in a pure, white dress, skinny and beautiful as always; Lucas in a pretty ugly tux. Her heart and feet stop for seconds and she tries not to hear the gasps and her shattering heart. Tries to miss the looks of pity and the way Lucas and Peyton stop kissing to watch her.

She's dragging the two girls to their table, making a joke about the headmaster she heard in the hallways on her last day of school.

She stays at the table after that, even though the evening is pretty much over. She's so tired and small and cold and even though the others are chatting around her to make her feel better, she's consumed by the silence inside her. There's just nothing left to say anymore. Her wish came true.

Her stupid, juvenile wish. A wish she prayed to come true for months now. Because she expects – expected to die in the nearer future. There's nothing here for her anymore now. It's all she could have asked for.

That's why she's confused when Rachel's suddenly hugging her and her other dream is becoming reality.

She's homecoming queen. Even though she's ugly and bony and dying and not actually in high school anymore. It's clearly a pity vote to give the dying girl what she wants. It's silly and she would have never gotten the title if everything would still be normal, but she is weirdly excited.

Her knees are nearly giving in during her walk of shame to the stage. She gets a crown and everything and when somebody grasps her hands she is not surprised. It's Nathan.

He hugs her, really tight. "This is a dream come true, right, girly girl?" She just laughs in his ear and somehow the hug turns into her fourth bear hug.

Minutes later they dance, long and slow to a supposedly romantic song and it's not even awkward. It should be. There's his strong hand on her bony hip and her ugly, worn out face in front of his. But it's not. They've grown close in the last time, because even though he cares for her, he doesn't _pity_ her. They get each other. They and their paths are so similar that they both understand.

So now when it should be awkward with her wig and his superman-body, it isn't. They're grinning and whispering dirty jokes into each other ears.

When the music stops, they turn around to smile at Haley and Rachel, who have the same expression on her faces. She's searching for Jacob's slim figure in the crowd and it's then that she sees the two faces. They are watching her, wet eyes, trembling needs and everything.

She ignores it. It doesn't mean a thing. What she's not able to ignore is the sudden pain in the bottom of her stomach and her need to vomit. Her feet take small, shaking steps towards the bathroom; and every motion makes her even sicker than before. Her vision gets a little blurry and there are big, strong hands around her to sweep her from her feet.

There's blood on her lips and in her eyes and beneath her teeth and underneath her fingernails. She has no idea why it's there all of a sudden. She has no idea where there's this sound in her ears: rushing blood and gaking.

But she knows. This. Right now. This is the end.

It's night and there are a couples of figures beside her bed. But it's not the first thing she notices. It's the pain in her chest, her head and her bones. Her whole body is aching.

They tell her that her body is rejecting the donor cells. Her body needs a new kind of treatment. She just needs to stay alive for a couple of more days, until her system can react. Everybody she can see out of the corner of her eye is crying.

The next day she forgives them. Officially and out loud. "I did it months ago." They're crying and begging. They claim to lover her, more than anything.

She knows a lie when she hears it.

Her body gives out . They put her in diapers now because her body has no ways of controlling anything anymore. She vomits and pisses and shits without any sort of control now. She's never been more embarrassed and ashamed of herself.

After a few days she doesn't care anymore. The pain takes over her juvenile thoughts about dignity and strength.

They stop treatment to put her in a hospice. They say it's a matter of days. They say that they are so, so sorry.

The people around her are keep crying, and she can't. She just can't. She wants to hide, from all of it. From the pain she experiences, from the pain she causes these incredible people, from the pain that's about to come.

And she can't.

She's not fighting anymore. These kind things just keep happening to her and it never seems to matter how hard she tries. She tried _so_ hard to be a better person. Tried to be the best friend, the best girlfriend, the best maid of honour in the entire world. She tried to give everything she has.

It hasn't been enough. It won't matter now out of the sudden.

This new attitude doesn't suit her; she knows that.

She doesn't hide. She stands tall, fights her ground; she doesn't loose. She's Brooke Davis. She doesn't give up.

Until she does.

And she's finally, _finally_ there.


End file.
